


perspective

by words_unravel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, DJ Zayn Malik, Drinking, Las Vegas, M/M, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_unravel/pseuds/words_unravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p><br/>per·spec·tive<br/>pərˈspektiv/</p>
  <p>    <i>noun</i></p>
  <p>1. the art of drawing solid objects on a two-dimensional surface so as to give the right impression of their height, width, depth, and position in relation to each other when viewed from a particular point.<br/>2. a particular attitude toward or way of regarding something; a point of view.</p>
</blockquote><br/><i>or, a look at four ways Niall and Zayn are Niall and Zayn.</i>
            </blockquote>





	perspective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pixies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixies/gifts).



> I had a hard time trying to decide which prompt to pick, so I kind of just picked four of them and went with it? The ones I chose were:  
>    
>  _* footballer!niall and his model boyfriend zayn_  
>     
>  _* impromptu getaway!! (bc of that quote where niall talks about him and zayn staying in la for a few days after the vmas) idk i just want them up and deciding to go somewhere, texting everyone they'll be gone for a few days and then cutting off their phones, spending some time all loved up and cuddled up and relaxed_  
>     
>  _* okay we always get fratboy!niall and artist/writer!zayn BUT WHAT ABOUT fratboy!zayn and quiet-english-major!niall???_  
>     
>  _* SO we all see how tactile ziall are onstage (ESP ZAYN). i want fic about them being touchy feely, hands on, always touching in like. every day life. zayn snugged up behind niall while niall's makin pancakes, hand flat on his stomach. niall with his hand in zayn's hair while they watch tv. zayn playing with niall's fingers when they're watching a movie, or while niall's driving. any touching. all of the touching. (honestly just like. domestic!fic.)_
> 
>    
> Much love to my beta/britpicker (who will be revealed soon) for taking the time to look this over! Any mistakes from here on out are mine and mine alone!

* * *

**_height_**  
He's been modeling since he was sixteen, so Zayn's used to it by now. He knows not to touch the hair once it's been set and to not ruin the lines of the suit if possible, which is why he can't seem to tear his eyes away from this blonde kid talking to the caterer who keeps fiddling with his tie and eating the mini sandwiches sat on the table. Lou doesn't mind redoing hair and makeup, but Zayn's well aware that it's dangerous to cross Caroline if the clothes get dirty. 

With a shake of his head, Zayn's about to turn around when he notices the caterer walking away. The boy's face goes tight a little, just around his eyes, but Zayn can also see the way his fingers twitch against his thighs. Nervous gestures. 

Zayn knows those tells too. 

He's trying to decide if he wants to go over--new people aren't really his thing, to be honest--but the lad's mobile must go off because a second later it's in his hands. The look on his face eases as well, a bright smile spreading over it instead. Zayn can feel his own mouth doing the same just watching him. 

"You look a bit smitten." Harry's voice is low behind him, the tone teasing. 

There's an arm across his shoulders a second later and Zayn sighs. Harry's awful about provoking Caroline, knows she's more likely to give him a fond, exasperated look instead of a stern lecture like everyone else receives. She lets him get away with loads of stuff, much to Zayn's annoyance. 

Even now, when Zayn glances over, he can see the tell-tail wings of the infamous stomach tattoo as Harry's shirt's already unbuttoned halfway down. 

Ignoring Harry's statement, he says, "I see you charmed wardrobe again," and gets a wide smile in response. 

"Told her I'd write a lovely tune for baby Brooke," Harry tells him. Zayn tries not to go soft at that, but it's inevitable. He's one of Brooke's godfathers; he'd try to buy her the world if he could. A song from 19 year-old indie sensation Harry Styles should be alright. 

"His name's Niall Horan," Harry says a moment later, bringing the conversation back around. 

Across the room, the blond cackles loudly at something on his mobile. It's catching, Zayn can feel himself smiling again. Knows Harry's doing the same, can hear it in the sound of his voice when he adds, "He's the darling of Derby apparently. Haven't heard a bad word about him."

"Well he's here, isn't he?" Zayn murmurs. Glamour's _20 & Under: Britain's Choice_ shoot is a dozen of the country's favorites, from football to music to modeling and everything in between. The lad laughs again, pulling one of the handful of interns wandering the place to look at something on his screen. There's more laughter. 

"It makes sense, yeah?"

* 

"If I'm not on the field, I've got mine in hand," Niall says, strumming his fingers over the strings of Harry's guitar. "The boys get sick of it sometimes. Yell at me to shut up 'cuz they're trying t'sleep." It doesn't look like he cares. No, Zayn thinks, not like he doesn't care, like he doesn't _let_ it bother him. That must be nice. 

"Tommo's the worst, when I'm staying at his," Niall continues, moving his fingers over the frets and picking out something that sounds vaguely familiar, "but I just play a little of The Fray and he shuts right up." He grins up at the two of them, even as Harry asks, "Tommo?"

"Lou. Louis Tomlinson, plays for Leeds." Niall says, like it needs clarification. Harry's face lights up, and Zayn sighs heavily. Harry's crush on the Leeds defender is something he has to hear about more often than he'd really like. 

"Here we go," he mutters, earning a quick glance from Niall. 

"You know Louis Tomlinson?" Harry's practically rubbing his hands together with glee. Zayn can see Niall trying not to laugh. 

"Might do," he tells Harry, nodding sage-like even as he switches to Harry's first hit, _Notice Me_. It's Zayn that stifles a laugh this time. 

"Heyyyy," Harry drawls out after a moment, pouting, and they both lose it. Harry laughs too, pointing out, "You know my song!"

"Course I do, mate." Niall shifts to another tune, Zayn's favorite, _Between These Lines_ and Harry beams. "Your stuff's sick."

"'Sides," Niall flicks a glance at Zayn, wiggling his eyebrows once, "Louis never shuts up about your voice." Harry practically vibrates in place, he's so over the moon at that admission. As Zayn watches, Niall shoots a bright smile over at him. 

He's not sure if what Niall's telling Harry is true or not, but even as he can't help grinning back, Zayn thinks he's going to enjoy finding out. 

~*~

 ** _width_**  
"Let's go to Vegas," Niall says, rolling his head along the back of the sofa to look at Zayn. 

He's high as fuck and Vegas sounds sick, so Zayn says, "Why not?"

*  
The thing is, Zayn aka "DJ Malik", is well-known enough on the London circuit that the mention of his name has the guy behind the decks eyes lighting up like it's his damn birthday and Christmas all rolled into one. And while Zayn is half-pissed on vodka cranberries, he's never going to say no to getting his hands on some tunes. 

London crowds are crazy, but American clubs take it to the next level. 

The movement on the dance floor seems to pause as Zayn looks on, like every person holds their breath for a single, unified moment, and then with a pulse, it goes _in_. 

Zayn messes with a couple of levels, keys up the next song, and glances up to watch the crowd. He loves this part, how all the writhing bodies look like one massive beast, breathing and moving like they're part of the music. 

They are, he thinks, sliding effortlessly into the another song and watching as the animal shifts to accommodate the new beat. 

Someone steps up beside him and Zayn knows without looking that it's Niall. He looks anyway, because it _is_ Niall. The lad's his best mate, the most fortuitous result of blindly answering a random _need a roommate_ ad any broke, scared, new-to-London boy could ever get. There's no way Zayn will ever _not_ look for Niall. 

Something must show on his face because the wide grin on Niall's face softens and he bumps a shoulder against Zayn's. He shifts back a second later, but doesn't go very far. He's never very far away. 

"DJ Malik in da hoooouuuuse!" Niall yells at him, doing a weird hip circle/wiggle thing that never fails to make Zayn laugh. 

"I'm just a little boy from Bradford and I'm _smashing_ it!," he hollers back, throwing his arms up and doing his own hip thrust. Even over the music and the crowd, he can hear Niall cackle. 

*

"I think it's this one," Niall says. He's squinting at the room number hard enough that Zayn's afraid he might strain something. 

It turns out he's right though; it is their room. It takes more than one try to get the key card to work, and Zayn would be more frustrated if a) he wasn't completely pissed, and b) Niall wasn't giggling madly, holding the wall up beside the door, watching him. 

Zayn practically falls through the doorway, once he finally manages to get it open. Niall stumbles in behind him, wrapping an arm around Zayn's waist to steady him. It doesn't work, of course, since Niall's had even more to drink than him. The room is fairly small though and they manage to make it to the bed before either of them get hurt. 

Niall shifts immediately, tucking himself against Zayn's side. There's an arm across his chest before Zayn can protest. Not that he ever would.

The room is quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner, but the music is still ringing in Zayn's ears a little, the heat of the crowd thrumming in his veins. 

It's been a good night.

"Vegas, baby," Niall mumbles, like he can feel what Zayn's thinking. He shoves his face into Zayn's neck, and Zayn can't help scrubbing a hand over the top of his head. It's flat now, soft, the last of the product left there tickling his palm. Niall curls further into his side at that, murmuring, "What happens in Vegas--" 

"Stays in Vegas," Zayn finishes quietly when it's apparent Niall's passed out. 

Smiling, he closes his eyes and does the same. 

~*~

 ** _depth_**  
Zayn's not entirely sure how he ended up here. 

Okay, that's a lie. He knows _exactly_ how he ended up here - Liam. 

The rugby soc loves their star second year. Like, enough that Zayn couldn't even begin to think about saying no when Liam had turned his stupid, sincere eyes toward him and asked Zayn to follow. Zayn knows enough about Liam's past to know that he's both overwhelmed and starved for the attention he receives. He also knows that every so often, Liam still feels like he doesn't belong, despite the fact they've both been living in the soc house for nearly a year. Thinks that sooner or later it's all going to end; his star will fade and so will they way his team feels about him. 

Zayn knows it's bollocks, but still he stays even though Liam needs him less and less as time goes by. 

It's turned out all right though. The lads love superhero movies, respect Zayn's need for privacy, and worship him for his ability to get them through all their lit classes. He'd spoken so passionately one time about Raymond Carver's _A Small Good Thing_ that Louis's boyfriend Harry had cried, then hugged him for a solid ten minutes afterwards. 

That's the other thing: nobody even looks twice at who Zayn brings home. Ashton gave him a high five the morning after Geneva, a high five _and_ a butt pat the morning after Aiden. 

The rugby soc is weird, Zayn thinks, but it's become home. 

*

It's three weeks into the new term when Zayn meets Niall in the library, as they reach for the same text. 

Niall is quietly bright enough to light the room. 

They end up sharing the book, tucked away in an empty study room. At the end of the night, the library lights flashing end of hours, Zayn can't quite seem to walk away. He does eventually, with Niall's number filed away and his own locked into Niall's mobile. 

They meet a couple times of week and Zayn learns that Niall likes to touch. An arm around across his shoulder as they walk down the pavement, a hand on Zayn's waist to steer him. And hugs. Niall is a world class hugger, curling into Zayn like he's a part of him, arm around his waist and the other around his neck. 

At first it's okay, Zayn is fairly tactile himself. After a while, however, it's an ache when Niall pulls away. He finds himself leaning after the warmth of Niall's touch. Zayn wants _more_. 

Niall's never really given any indication on whether he likes boys at all, and for once, Zayn is hesitant to ask. He _likes_ Niall, this quiet thing they have between the two of them. He's set to keep that safe, no matter what. 

He's dealt with crushes before, he'll deal with this one too. 

*

Zayn feels a bit bad that he isn't able to make the last game of the season, but an unexpected paper in one of his non-lit courses pops up at the last minute and he spends most of the evening in the library. This means that by the time it's completed and sent off, the soc is in full party mode as he makes his way back to the house. 

Halfway down the block, Zayn can hear the thump of the bass and knows that at some point he's going to have to pull Louis away from the sound system. With a grin, he hops up the stairs and heads inside. 

There's a shout of his name as he walks in, shoulder bumps and such as he makes his way through the room. He's got a foot on the stairs, headed up to drop his bag off, when a huge cry goes up from the common room. Curious, he makes his way over to see what's happening. 

Zayn's seen a lot of things at these celebration parties--too much alcohol, testosterone, and Louis Tomlinson--but he's not prepared to push in between Liam and Harry just in time to see Niall sink the last ball in beer pong. 

He throws his arms up, the crowd screaming with him, as he beams in victory. He's only wearing a white vest, faded US flag on the front, and a pair of skinny jeans. And it's just--

There's _so much_ skin. All of it pale, pale, pale, and everything kind of goes silent in Zayn's head, the blankness drowning out all the noise around him as he stares. 

It's only when an arm goes around his shoulders and Liam's yelling, "Isn't he great??!?" that the noise floods back in, overwhelming. 

"You know him?" Zayn manages, watching as Niall gets swallowed up by a number of other soc members. 

"Yeah, Nialler's the best!" Liam light up, unaware that Zayn's world is imploding just a bit. "He's in my Music Studies lecture. He's sick on guitar, funny as fuck too."

Someone shifts in the crowd and Zayn sees Niall, hears it over the noise as Niall throws his head back and laughs. His face is bright red, hair a soft mess across his forehead and Zayn still wants to _touch_. And that feeling isn't new, not at all, but Zayn's even more hesitant than before because this such a very, very different version of Niall than he's seen before. 

Niall glances over just then, as Liam continues to talk. Zayn's not listening, not really, because Niall's smile shifts as he recognizes Zayn. And it's the smile that Zayn knows, the one from hours spent in study rooms, side by side.

That should make him feel better, but it doesn't. 

It must show on his face though, because Niall's eyebrows pinch together in a frown and he shifts, turning in Zayn's direction. He's caught, an arm around his shoulders, before he can get more than two steps though and Zayn, uneasy and a little confused, takes the chance to escape up to his room. 

Niall finds him not too long after that, Zayn sat on the edge of his bed flipping a well-worn copy of _Don Quixote_ over and over in his hands. He steps into Zayn's room, sliding the door closed with a quiet click. Neither of them speak.

And this silence is different too, not comfortable like those in the library. This one feels more than a little tense, if Zayn's honest with himself. Like something might snap.

"What's wrong?" Niall finally asks. He's not moved from the door, just stood there, watching Zayn. When Zayn doesn't answer, he shifts, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and tucking his chin down. "I know you weren't expecting to see me--"

"Which one are you?" Zayn blurts out. Niall just frowns at him, shakes his head in confusion. "The one I know, the nose-deep in books Niall or the one just now, downstairs? The king of the party Niall?"

The question makes Niall frown harder. "Why can't I be both?"

Zayn looks away, pressing his fingers into the hard binding of the book in his hands until it hurts a little. 

"S'not like you're any different," Niall says a moment later. Zayn's head snaps up and Niall continues, "According to Liam you're silly and goofy, you paint and apparently sing like angel when you think no one's paying attention." Zayn feels gobsmacked, knows it must show on his face because Niall blushes, adds, "Liam can never shut up about you in class."

"Didn't mention you at all," Zayn mutters, scowling. 

The room goes silent again. 

He's started to feel like an ass, knowing what Niall's said is true. There's so many sides to everyone; he shouldn't feel so disjointed by the whole thing. But he is, and it makes him wonder exactly why. Then it hits him. 

Something must show on his face because Niall's in front of him in seconds, hand on his shoulder. "Zayn?"

"Both of you will still like hanging out with both of me, won't they?" And it sounds stupid, he knows, so _very_ stupid, falling out of his mouth like that, but he needs to know that Niall isn't going to walk away. 

"For fuck's sake," Niall mumbles, staring down at Zayn, "for someone so smart, you're such an idiot." 

And then he kisses Zayn.

Zayn flails a little, he's not ashamed to admit, surprised to find Niall's mouth against his. He adapts quickly enough, curling his fingers into the thin material of Niall's vest and taking them both down to the bed. 

Well, that seems to answer all his questions clearly enough. 

~*~

 ** _position_**  
There's no distinct moment, no set incident or memory, for when this thing with Niall shifted into something more. None that Zayn can remember, at least. Niall's the one with the memory though, for names and faces; he's the one with the spreadsheets of every place they've visited during the fast-moving train that is One Direction. 

Maybe he'll ask one day. Another time when he's not curled on the sofa in the back lounge of the bus. When Niall's fingers aren't brushing softly through the hair at the back of his neck and he's solid and warm against Zayn's side. 

They're not even doing anything overt, no more so than sitting there watching some shit movie to pass the time until they reach the next destination, when Louis wanders into the room and makes a face. 

"No fucking in here."

Niall laughs, because there will never be a time that Niall doesn't laugh at Louis, and says immediately, "Nah, mate, we save that for your bunk."

That earns them a loud gasp, Louis's hand splaying dramatically across his chest. The gesture makes Niall laugh again. Zayn can't help himself, can't hide the tiny smirk that slips out fast enough, and Louis catches it. 

His eyes narrow. 

"Liam!" They all know their bandmate is currently face-timing Sophia in his own bunk. Still, it's Liam, and it's Louis, so a minute or so later Liam shuffles into the lounge. He's got his mobile up, face soft like it always is when she's around and Zayn can't help but smile at the familiar sight. 

"Just a sec, Soph," Liam says, then, "What is it, Tommo?"

Zayn knows what's coming even before Louis declares, "I need you to have sex with me in Zayn's bunk."

It's a tribute, really, to how much Liam's changed in the last four years when he doesn't even blush, just tells Louis, "I'm not having sex with you in Zayn's bunk." 

Louis pouts, about to protest, when Sophia says something to Liam. Zayn's too far away to hear what exactly but Louis's pout transforms into a wide grin and Liam's face flushes bright red. He gapes at his phone, mouth opening and closing several times. Sophia's laughter is clearly discernible, even if her words weren't. 

"You're a good one, Ms. Smith," Louis leans into view of the screen, slapping Liam on the back as he does. He starts to pulls Liam back into the hallway. 

"I'll have to come up with some other form of revenge," he glances up, making an 'eyes-on-you' gesture at two of them sat there. "Don't think I won't."

"Shakin' in me boots!" Niall hollers after them as they disappear toward the front of the bus. He settles back into Zayn's side, laughing softly. His fingers start moving again, soft little circles that Zayn can't help but lean into. After a moment, Niall speaks up again, voice low. 

"Probably shouldn't ever tell him about the time we fucked on his sofa, should we?" 

*

It's a break. A blessed, much-needed break from tour that has all five of them scattering the second the plane touches down. 

Niall flies home because he's not seen his dad in too many months. Theo is walking and talking and Zayn knows that Niall hates being so far away from his nephew all the time. It's the same for Zayn, with his mum and dad, his sisters. Even Danny and Ant. Everyone's lives continuing on in his absence. 

So he does his best to catch up. 

For a week at least, hanging around his parents' house and eating everything his mum cooks. He teases his baby sisters about boys and watches as Doniya wraps their dad around her finger like she has for years. It's _nice_. 

There's always so much he can take though, before he's got to get back to his own space. 

He's been back at his for three days when he wakes up one morning to the smell of pancakes wafting through the house. Face pressed into his pillow, Zayn can't help but smile. 

When he steps into the kitchen a few minutes later, Niall's standing at the hob. He's humming, some tune that Zayn can't place. His hair's dark in the back but the same old shock of blond on the top, and Zayn knows that he's seen Lou not too long ago. That makes him a little curious, about what it'll be like when the band calls it quits. There's so many people involved, day to day, and he wonders if they think about their lives in the same way he does - pre-1D and now; if they'll think about everything after the end as post-1D. 

"I can hear you thinkin' from here," Niall says, breaking into the thoughts in Zayn's head. It sounds very Niall-like, an observation without judgement, and Zayn smiles again. 

"Nah, just woke up," Zayn says, making his way across the kitchen. 

That makes Niall snort, disbelieving, and Zayn laughs softly. He curls along the line of Niall's back, sliding his hands under his shirt until his palms lie lat against Niall's stomach. Niall runs hot and Zayn lets that warmth soak into his skin. 

Pressing a kiss into the back of Niall's neck, he murmurs, "How'd you get in?"

"Got here just as Danny was heading out," Niall answers, leaning back ever so slightly. "Said he was out for the rest of the day."

Zayn hums, moving to press his nose into the curve of Niall's neck. He doesn't really care. All that matters is that Niall's _here_.

They'll head back out on tour in a couple of days, but Zayn's more than content to just stand here for now sleep-dazed and happy, with his boyfriend.

*

The crowd's energy tonight has been _insane_. 

Even Louis's feeling it, taunting and teasing Liam all night until Liam threatens to sit on him, which only gets the crowd even more riled up. Zayn's smiling so hard by the time they get to What Makes You Beautiful, he's afraid his face might explode and when he glances over, it's to find the same smile on Niall's face. 

After four plus years, nights this electric are rare. The sheer force of what they're creating between the five of them and people screaming out in the stands overwhelming. This might be the best high ever, Zayn thinks. 

Niall catches his eye then, smile going even wider, and Zayn _knows_ it is. 

Harry's just started his solo when Niall sidles up beside him, lifting his arms and wiggling his hips like an idiot. Before he can even think about it, Zayn's reaching out - nipple, nipple, bellybutton - just like old times. Niall nearly bends in two, he's laughing so hard. 

By the time the last chorus comes up, Niall's got himself mostly in order. He doesn't sing though, just slides a hand around Zayn's waist, pressing his fingers in and tugging Zayn further into his side. Then, barely loud enough for Zayn to hear, he says, "Love you too, you idiot."

It's nothing the crowd can catch, but it's _everything_ to Zayn.


End file.
